Coin Toss
by katrinawritesstuff
Summary: Katniss questions her sexuality and watches Coin dominate Johanna, who's been a very bad girl. Voyeurism and lemons and lady-lovin' galore! Hastily written. Oneshot.


"**Coin Toss"**

_Note: Since it's set during the Mockingjay rebellion, Katniss is 18 in this fic. I wrote this pretty quick, so it's a bit rushed.  
_

Lately, Katniss Everdeen had found herself having—and jerking off to—some disturbing fantasies of a sexual nature. Oh, they weren't the _violent_ kind that would cause a Good Girl to fret that she was betraying her innermost values for cheap orgasms, a clear sign that she'd succumbed to the seductive powers of Satan (or Patriarchy, depending on our Good Girl's politics). Actually, the Mockingjay's masturbatory fodder was a great deal more socially-acceptable: Vanilla-y Sapphic scenarios whose troubling prevalence hinted at a nascent attraction to girls.

The first sign had been last year's Quarter Quell, when Johanna Mason (District Seven Lumberjill and Puerile Provocateur Extraordinaire) had suddenly disrobed in front of her while the two women were in the elevator together. The move had been shocking, unexpected and (needless to say) wildly inappropriate. It had also been deeply arousing. Johanna's breasts, firm little pink peaks that stood upright on their own (for she was a slender woman) had since become something of a regular fixture in Katniss's fantasies, the circular motion of her tongue on Johanna's erect nipple a potent image which mirrored the Mockingjay's frenzied ministrations with her own massively engorged clit. When Peeta had seen the look on Katniss's face—her mouth opening and closing in dumb bewilderment like a goldfish—he'd attributed his friend's flummoxed countenance to naiveté rather than prurience. Maybe _he_ was the naive one. The unassuming Baker's boy would've really tossed a stiff loaf if he'd have known what was going on in his female District partner's head at that moment (to say nothing of her lower regions).

Worried that her lust for women had begun to supplant her heterosexuality (such as it was; for all of Katniss's adolescence, her attraction to boys had manifested more as a vague, dreamy warmth in her stomach rather than an urgent, throbbing wetness in her cunt), Katniss decided to consult her friend Madge for advice. Being the Mayor's daughter, Madge's peripatetic lifestyle among moneyed fauxhemian types (and on occasion, Capitol officials) meant that she was wiser to the ways of the world than your average District-dweller and thus, a safer bet for confession without judgement.

"You don't really like women," Madge informed her tartly from her bunker, where she lay on her bed reading the latest edition of _Cosmopolitan_ (whose slogan, "The magazine for Fun, Fearful Females Who Are Spunky Without Upsetting The Status Quo" had been substituted with, "Fun, Fearful Females" for brevity).

Finding the brusqueness of her friend's reply unsatisfying, Katniss persisted: "No; I don't think you get it, Madge. I mean, I have been jerking off to girls _a lot_. Like, _really_ a lot. Like, way more than I jerk off to guys. Which is almost never. And it's not just sex fantasies: I think about other girls _all the time_. So much so that I'm not even sure who I am. Which is frustrating, to say the least, 'cause I've always regarded myself as a person who has a really strong sense of their own identity. Now it's like a part of me is a mystery I can't solve. And that's...well, _worrying."_ Katniss felt a sudden surge of unhappiness then, as though verbalising her predicament gave it concrete form.

Sensing Katniss's worry, Madge suddenly became more sympathetic. "Aw, hey, don't get yourself all worked into a tizz, Catnip," she said soothingly, borrowing Gale's pet-name. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed, and then scooched her arse over towards the pillow. She smiled reassuringly and gave the side of the bed a firm pat. "Come. Sit."

Uncharacteristically bashful, Katniss felt her cheeks grow warm as she wandered over to join Madge on the bed.

"Now," Madge began after her friend had parked her tush, "have you ever been attracted to boys before?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, have you ever thought about fucking one?"

"Um...honestly? Not _fucking_, per se. Like, I've thought _romantic_ thoughts about them before. But those are more like a fuzzy feeling of all-over warmth I get when I think about the guy than anything, you know, _carnal_. My attraction to guys is more emotional than sexual, I guess."

"_Aah,_ well, then I guess—"

"Oh, wait!" Katniss's eyes flashed. "I _did_ once think about fucking a boy, one time when..." Suddenly, her voice trailed off and her eyes narrowed. "Can you keep a secret?"

"Cross my heart and hope to be Reaped."

Katniss hesitated, wondering if her friend could be trusted with such a personal revelation. Madge stared innocently back at her, sweet and unassuming. Katniss drew a deep breath.

"Gale. I thought about fucking Gale after we'd been hunting in the woods one time. He was helping me steady my aim, when all of a sudden, it occurred to me how big and strong his hands were. I thought about those hands later when I was alone in my room. Large, masculine hands. Grabbing me around the waist. Throwing me down onto the bed. Holding my arms above my head and pinning my wrists to the pillows..." Katniss trailed off, blushing with self-awareness. _Probably a bit of over-share_, she thought.

But other peoples' fantasies left Madge intrigued rather than scandalised, and she nodded her head and smiled encouragingly. "Wow, sounds hot!" she laughed. "Do continue."

"Oh, I'm not going to say anything more to you, little perve," Katniss chuckled, playfully clobbering Mage in the side of the head with a pillow.

"Hey, gimme that!" Madge giggled, snatching the pillow away. "I'm keeping this," she teased, hiding it behind her back. "You're too dangerous when armed."

When the pair's laughter had finally subsided, Madge added, more seriously, "Look, Katniss, I really don't think you have an identity crisis on your hands after all."

"You don't?"

"No. It's perfectly natural to fantasise about women."

"Do _you?"_

"No," Madge confessed, "but plenty of straight women do. It's common as dirt. It doesn't mean you're a lesbian; it just means you're attracted to the curvy sensuality the female form represents. Or maybe you're aroused by the fact that it's a bit taboo, by the knowledge that getting it on with another woman would make you a bit of a Bad Girl. Lots of straight chicks jerk off to other chicks. Trust me, it's totally normal."

Katniss was still dubious. "Really?"

"Sure. _Cosmo_ never lies," Madge smiled reassuringly, then added, upon further reflection, "Well, come to think of it, their article about affordable Capitol fashions for District-dwellers was a load of crap. I mean, how stupid do they think we are? Like anyone from _District Twelve _could afford _anything_ from the Capitol. And some of their feature articles are total propaganda." Madge suddenly frowned. "You know what? Screw _Cosmo_. They _do_ lie. But not in this case—I've spoken to some Family Planning volunteers and Sexual Health educators before, and they gave me the 411 on female sexual desire, and we know _they_ don't lie. So relax. You're just a regular straight chick with a few lesbo fantasies. No big."

Still not entirely convinced, Katniss nonetheless gave her friend a kind smile. "Thanks, Madge," she said, genuinely grateful. "You're a babe."

"You mean that in a platonic way, right?"

Katniss laughed and playfully walloped her friend with the pillow again. The two girls then embraced warmly before Katniss headed off back to her bunker for some much-needed shut-eye.

* * *

In her bed, Katniss couldn't sleep. The bunker was so dank and dreary. And cold; Katniss could practically feel the tiny stalactites beginning to crystallise on the tip of her nose.

As she lay there, tossing and turning in an effort to force herself to relinquish her depressingly-firm grasp on consciousness, she thought about Madge's words: _"It's perfectly normal to fantasise about other women."_ But was it? For a lesbian, yes. But for a straight girl? Katniss didn't know. She hadn't had access to the education Madge had. For Katniss Everdeen, there were no issues of _Cosmopolitan_ to pore over, no early twenty-something fauxhemians to consult on the ways of adults. These were luxuries, and Katniss's life was not about luxury. It was about survival. Getting by. Hunting to feed your family. Sexual enjoyment fell well behind all of that.

Katniss sighed and rolled onto her back. Maybe she _was_ a lesbian after all. She could live with that—no-one had any prejudice against individuals who were attracted to members of their own sex, either in the Capitol or in the districts. It didn't matter what sex your bed partner was; the old prejudices had long been supplanted by new ones, all based around class (fuck who you will, but make sure their income level equals or exceeds your own. Otherwise, a pariah you shall become). But even without being circumscribed by parochial legislation, identity was still tricky thing to negotiate.

But then, if she _was_ a lesbian, what of Peeta? Or Gale? She wanted to be with one of them, eventually. This much she knew. The trouble was, she didn't know if she wanted to be with one of them _sexually_ or not.

Suddenly, a muffled shriek pierced the air, followed by a fit of irrepressible giggles. Katniss sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes wider than a racoon's. She recognised the voice immediately: Johanna's. It had come from President Coin's chambers.

Grabbing the torch she kept under her bed, Katniss gradually eased herself out of her bed and quietly tiptoed out of her bunker and into the dark passageway. She kept her hand carefully covering its top, so the high beam of light emanating from the torch wouldn't disturb the people sleeping in the adjacent bunkers.

As she neared the entrance to President Coin's room at the end of the hall—hidden behind a red velvet curtain—the shrieks and giggles began to increase, both in volume and in intensity.

Katniss dropped into a squatting position on the floor in front of the curtain. Then, drawing a deep breath, she leaned forward and peered through the tiny slit between the curtain and the wall. Her breath caught in her throat.

Coin's room was ornate and decadent—much more so than would be expected for a somewhat-Spartan, Communistic leader of the resistance. Old Europeans paintings—rip-offs rather than the genuine articles, Katniss suspected—decorated the walls around the bed, an elegant canopy king-sized number for the professional recreationist.

But it was less the splendour of the room itself than the activities of its occupants that caused our Mockingjay to stare in silent wonder.

Coin was sitting on the velvet recliner in the corner of the room, her legs spread immodestly in a wide V, each leg resting on one of the chair's arms. She had her eyes closed and a smile of consummate bliss on her upturned face. Johanna knelt on the floor in front of her, her face buried deep in the older woman's snatch. Coin had a hand rested on the back of Johanna's head. Both were completely naked.

"Ohhhh god, you are _insatiable,"_ Coin gasped breathlessly, as Johanna's tongue glided all over the inner folds of her cunt, teased her hard clit. Coin grabbed a tuft of Johanna's spiky black hair and pulled. Hard.

"_Ouch,"_ Johanna said saucily, breathily whispering the word onto Coin's clit, which swelled with the knowledge of its owner's power.

"You like that, don't you? Like it when I give you a bit of pain." Coin opened her eyes and smiled regally down at her lover. "Well. I _do _need to remind you who's in charge, after all. _OHHH_, ahh..." Johanna had just made her come again.

Katniss couldn't believe what she was seeing. _So THAT was how two women—! _

"Ooh, hang on. What are you—!" Coin's voice was suddenly sharp with reproach. "What are you doing down there?"

"You don't like anal beads, Ms. Cassandra?"

Coin shook her head. "No sprung on me, I don't. Now listen, you—no trying to top from the bottom!" But she was smiling when she said this.

Johanna grinned impishly back. "May I eat your asshole then, Ms? I've already paid so much attention to your gorgeous cunt. I think your cute little butthole's getting lonely."

"Damn. You District Seven girls have such faggy sensibilities, don't you?" She smiled. "Of course, I mean that as a compliment. I'd _love_ for you to lick my ass." A girlish giggle. Coin seemed strangely young to Katniss then.

Johanna continued fucking Coin's cunt and asshole, with her tongue and fingers and toys, until the older woman had had so many orgasms Katniss had lost count. When it seemed as though they were both spent, the two women climbed into Coin's bed together, laying against one another in the spooning position, with Coin as the larger spoon. Their conversation was whispered, so Katniss couldn't hear what they were saying, but every so often, little snippets would leap out at her:

"Now, you've been _such_ a naughty girl..."

"An obedient bottom I ain't, Madame Prez. So you'll just have to get used to that."

"I've been _aching_ for you to fuck me all day..."

Katniss reluctantly forced herself to retreat back to her bunker, her mind and cunt both buzzing with her newfound knowledge. For watching Coin and Johanna get sweaty had brought her to a new discovery, one that she wasn't sure she could say aloud. And so she tried saying it in her head first, just to see how it felt:

_I like girls. _

She had thought she would feel some resistance to it; some need for self-censorship, for a stubborn refusal and for her heterosexuality to assert itself. But her resistance was now gone, and in its place, Katniss found a strange new kind of acceptance.

"I like girls."

Said aloud this time, and with surprisingly little trepidation. It was liberating to accept this truth about herself. Katniss knew it may not be true forever—who knows, maybe she really was just a straight girl who had an unusually large number of lesbian fantasies. But it was true _for now_. And in a world in which tomorrow may never come, in which happiness was painfully transient, Now was all that mattered.


End file.
